


When the Dreamer Wakes

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Divorce, Explanations, M/M, Misunderstandings, injured child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows there is an explanation coming, but he has to decide if he’s ready to hear it and talk about it. Besides his slowly waking daughter is more important than anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Dreamer Wakes

**Author's Note:**

> With a prompt like explanation (prompt #27 at fullmoon_ficlet), of course this canon gave me a story about not actually getting to the explanation. As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“Stiles.”

“I don’t want to talk now, Jackson.” Stiles holds Nikki’s hand between both of his, head bowed. It lets him stay close to her, and at the same time it means he doesn’t need to look at Jackson. It’s been a day since Amanda caught him in the bathroom and explained exactly who she is; since then Stiles has managed to avoid every possible additional explanation Jackson might try to give.

Even without listening, Stiles has somehow absorbed information. Not everything, but he knows that the little girl is Amanda’s daughter Angela—Angie. She’s cute, maybe the same age Nikki was when he and Jackson divorced. She already adores Caleb, and Stiles can tell that they’ve spoken before.

Angie’s talked to Nikki, too. Stiles doesn’t want to know that, but he can’t help overhear the conversations between the little girl and the others. 

Nikki’s had this whole life going on that Stiles doesn’t know about. He doesn’t know how to handle that, so he just _doesn’t_ , not yet. Just like he won’t listen to Jackson’s attempts at explanations. It’s not the right time.

“Then when?” Jackson swings his chair around, boxing Stiles in loosely. 

“You haven’t wanted to talk for ten years,” Stiles snaps, trying to keep his voice low. He glares at Jackson, irritated at how close he sits now. “You haven’t wanted to talk at _all_. You kept her a secret for _ten years_.”

“You weren’t going to _listen_.”

Fingers twitch in his hand, and Stiles squeezes, sitting up. “Nikki. _Nik_.” He doesn’t care that Jackson is there, doesn’t even care when Jackson’s hand joins his, holding on to their daughter together. Her fingers twitch again, and that’s all he can see, breathing her name on an exhalation. “Nicolette Stilinski-Whittemore, I need you to come back to me now. Come on, baby girl. Don’t leave me alone.”

She huffs a sigh, her head turning slightly, the sound turning to a moan. Jackson’s hand slides to her wrist and black veins glide up his arm. Stiles bites his lip hard enough that it hurts.

“Nik?”

“Daddy…”

He lets go of her hand so he can lean over, gathering her into his arms, holding her tight. “Nikki. Oh god. Nikki. Baby.” Stiles kisses her cheek, because he doesn’t have the words any more for how good it feels to hear that one word after days of waiting. He just wants to hold on and never let go.

“Daddy.” Her voice is stronger now. “Ow.”

He lets go, checking her over. “We need to get the doctor. They need to make sure everything’s okay now that you’re awake. Scott and Caleb should be coming in, they must have heard you…”

She’s not looking a Stiles. She’s looking past him, her mouth opened in a small, round O. “Papa?” It is barely a whisper, and Jackson’s only answer is to lean in next to Stiles and kiss her forehead gently before he steps back.

The door opens and people flood in, ushering Stiles and Jackson out into the hallway without ceremony. They are left standing there, the McCall family nearby, Angie bouncing around Jackson, singing how Nikki’s going to be _okay_ while Amanda tries to shush her.

How is this even his world? Stiles can’t move, can’t think straight. It’s all starting to crash around him and he stands there, not sure what to do next.

Something tugs at his shirt, and he looks down to find Angie standing there, staring up at him. “Nikki’a going to really be okay now, right?” she asks somberly.

It doesn’t matter what anyone else has done, Stiles can’t hate this little girl who looks so much like her uncle. He crouches down, bringing himself to her height. “I think she is. She was healing really well, partly thanks to your Uncle Jackson helping her out.”

“He’s her papa, of course he helped her.” 

In the words of a six year old, it’s so simple to say. Stiles nods slowly. “Of course he did. So hey.” He holds out one hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Stiles.”

“I’m Angie.” She shakes his hand solemnly. “Am I supposed to call you Uncle Stiles or Mr. Stilinski? Nikki said she wasn’t sure if you’re supposed to be my uncle anymore.” Angie wrinkles her nose. “She said it’s complicated.”

That’s one word for it. Everything is complicated, but if Stiles can make one small thing simple right now, he’ll take it. “Uncle Stiles is okay with me, if it’s okay with you,” he tells her.

He’s not quite prepared for the affectionate hug, the way she throws her arms around his neck, but he hugs her back quickly. He sees Amanda and Jackson together; he can’t miss the way Jackson watches him with Angie.

“I need to go talk to Jackson, okay? Can you stay with Caleb? He’s probably worried.” Stiles sends Angie off to see Scott’s son, and waits until he’s sure she’s occupied before he slowly pushes to his feet.

It feels like the longest walk to approach Jackson and Amanda, each step leaden and heavy. When he stops, they are both looking at him, and neither says a word.

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Stiles asks quietly.

“That’s my cue to step away.” Amanda kisses Jackson’s cheek. “I’m going to take Angie back to the hotel—she wants to call her dad. We’ll meet you back there later for dinner, or call if you want to meet somewhere else.”

“Are you staying?” Stiles has to ask. “Now that Nikki’s out of the woods, are you going to stay?”

“We’re booked into the hotel for a week at least.” Amanda exchanges a glance with Jackson, and Stiles can’t read either of them. He used to be able to figure out what Jackson was thinking, but not any more. They’ve grown too far apart.

He can still see the tension, though, in the way Jackson stands as Amanda walks away, all purposefully loose-limbed, while his fingers knot in his belt loops. Stiles is sure that if he were a werewolf, he’d smell the nerves pouring off of him in waves. He figures he’s just as nervous to match.

“I can’t leave yet,” Stiles says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere until they push me out of here, and Nikki’s resting. And I have to be back in the morning. But if you’ve got something to say when we’re not here, I’m going to listen.”

“Fine.” Jackson nods once, body still taut, and that’s that. They’ll talk, as soon as they have news. As soon as they are sure Nikki’s safe.

Stiles isn’t looking forward to this, but he realizes that he owes it to Nikki—and to Jackson—to hear him out. He just hopes it doesn’t devolve into a shouting match. He hasn’t missed those at all. Nor has he forgotten a single one, including the one when Jackson walked out.

He’s not sure any explanation could fix this. But he’ll let Jackson try.


End file.
